


Meet the Teacher Night

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Found Family, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Divorce, Single Parent AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: The first rule of parenting an elementary schooler is "don't hook up with her beloved teacher." Tommy's not sure ignorance is a defense.Or, Tommy builds himself a home.





	Meet the Teacher Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [speakingwosound (sev313)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/gifts).



 

_** July: ** _

“Daddy can we get pizza for dinner?”

“Sure sweetie,” Tommy says absently, staring at the giant pile of boxes in front of him. There are sheets, somewhere in here. He should probably find them before Amy needs to go to bed - putting her to sleep on an empty mattress or just-unwrapped new couch doesn’t scream of parenting competence.

The movers mostly set up the furniture already, thank god. Jon offered to come and help, offered to bring friends to come and help. Tommy might take him up on it tomorrow, but tonight… sheets, pizza.

The doorbell rings and Amy’s feet thud through the echoing house. “Pizza!”

“Not yet baby,” Tommy calls, rushing into the hall to follow her. “I didn’t order yet. Don’t open the door without me,” he calls ineffectively.

The door is wide open and Amy is giggling wild and happy from five feet off the ground.

“Emily,” Tommy sighs as he reaches them. He reaches out to tap Amy’s hip. “Amelia, we do not open the door without a grown-up.”

“It’s Aunt Em!” she argues.

“And we would have found that out when you waited for me to open the door,” Tommy says levelly. “What’s up Em?”

Emily laughs, “Hello to you too Tommy.”

“Yes, hello.” Tommy raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you just going to show up without explanation all the time now?”

“Didn’t you know you were signing up for this?” she laughs. “I came to invite Amy for a sleepover.” She arches a perfect eyebrow. “Jon’s got plans for you.”

Tommy sighs longsufferingly as he follows her down the walk, locking the door behind them. He did know he was signing up for this, actually, by moving down the street from his best friends. Sleepovers for Amy are a feature of the new life he’s planning for them.

Jon’s plans? Jon’s plans could go either way.

 

***

 

“Buy you a drink?” The guy from the end of the bar is suddenly much closer than before.

Tommy’s been - okay, Tommy’s been checking him out for a while. Aimlessly, really. Tommy is five? six? drinks in. Enough that he’s forgotten not to look.

Not enough to forget that he’s allowed to look, now. He’s got the fading tan line on his ring finger and the pile of therapy bills to prove it.

 _You’re allowed to want_ , his therapist urges in his head. _All that repression, it’s poisoning you from the inside out. Just because your marriage wasn’t right doesn’t mean you’re doomed._

Tommy looks around quickly for Jon, lost twenty minutes or an hour ago, and nods. “Beer maybe, my friend made me do shots earlier cause he forgets we’re not in college anymore.”

The guy laughs. “I have a few of those.” He flags down the bartender as he slips into the space between Tommy and the empty barstool beside him, brushing against Tommy’s knees.

He’s taller than he’d looked sitting down, voice lower than Tommy expected it to be. His eyes are sparkling, even with the obvious flush of alcohol on his face. “Elijah,” he offers before leaning forward to choose one of the pretentious beers on tap.

When the bartender walks away, Elijah twists to smile up at Tommy. His smile is dazzling, pulling Tommy in, making him _want_. He wants to pull Elijah close, wants to see if his lips are as soft as they look, wants to touch him and claim him in this hipster bar that Jon apparently adores.

“I’m Tommy.”

Elijah hands him his beer, letting their fingers touch for longer than Tommy would dare. Tommy takes a long, slow sip and thinks, crystal clear, _fuck it_.

“Wanna dance?”

 

***

 

The office is loud and cluttered, a far cry from the quiet corner office Tommy made his home in for years. Someone’s yelling in the back room, “we’re not going to make our deadline if you-” There are four people in the bullpen, all in various states of disarray.

A young woman looks up from her armful of paper and cloth and grins, approaching Tommy at more of a run than a walk. “Hold her I’ve gotta take this-”

Tommy unceremoniously finds his arms full of baby. Probably less than six months old if he remembers infant sizes right.

Amelia was a tiny baby. She’s still on the bottom edge of the pediatrician’s growth chart. Emily and Jon’s kids are standard sized though and this baby feels about the same as Cam had, holding him and pacing the night before the wedding, plagued with the cold feet he wishes he hadn’t pushed away.

The baby in Tommy’s arms now stirs and blinks up at him, eyes dark brown and calm, seeming unperturbed by being foisted on a stranger.

“Hi sweetie,” Tommy bounces her a little, feeling the natural rhythm to it. “Aren’t you a good girl?”

She blinks again and reaches a tiny fist for his shirt, squeezing it and settling in. Tommy looks up from her to take the office in, letting the chaos settle into his bones, finding the peace in it. He’s learned to hate the quiet.

Two guys are bent over the computer in the corner, still apparently oblivious of his presence. They’re bickering companionably about the layout of the page they’re looking at, elbowing each other easily.

Another woman gives Tommy a smile from her desk when their eyes meet, shrugging a little. “Jon’s stuck in an ad meeting and everyone goes a little crazy when he’s not here for deadline.”

Tommy nods at her in acknowledgment. He’s just opening his mouth, “I’m To-” when the baby is taken from his arms as unceremoniously as she’d been placed there.

“Priyanka you cannot just hand our baby to _strangers_ ,” a new voice snaps.

“He’s not a stranger,” Priyanka, apparently, retorts. “He’s the new guy.”

“Ah, yeah, I’m Tommy,” Tommy sticks his hand out. “Jon told me to come by this afternoon?”

“Hm.” She’s not impressed, cradling the baby closer to her chest. “I’m Tanya, I’m the managing editor and you’re in the way of getting the magazine to the printers on time.”

“He was helping with Pippa,” Priyanka says insistently. “Jon says he has a kid too; you do, right?”

“Unfortunately most of what Jon’s told you is probably true,” Tommy smiles at her. “He’s known me longer than anyone. I have a daughter, she’s six, her name is Amy.”

“This is Pippa,” Priyanka says easily, taking the baby back from Tanya who nods and disappears into the hallway again. “She and I will give you the tour, since her mama is grumpy. I’m Pri, I do most of the human interest stuff for the magazine.”

She gestures with her free hand, “Jesse and Jamie are our designers and if they aren’t done with the layout in five minutes Tanya is going to fire them and Jon and Dan won’t be able to stop her,” her voice raising pointedly. The guys mumble apologies and stop elbowing each other. “Corinne is copy editing this edition, but her real talent is finding op-ed writers.”

“Welcome to the madhouse,” Corinne laughs from her desk. “I’m almost done Pri, it looks good.”

Priyanka nods at her and leads the way down the hallway. “Conference room, breakroom, writers’ room-”

“Otherwise known as _not your office_ ,” Lovett appears in the doorway, looking tired. “Hey Tommy, good to finally have you on board, come into the lair. Pri, go do your job and leave this angel,” lifting Pippa high in the air, “with us.”

Priyanka gives him a sloppy salute and disappears as Tommy follows Lovett into the office. It’s cramped but comfortable, four desks and a oversized couch.

“That’s you,” Lovett nods at one. “You’ve got prime real estate, watch out Pri doesn’t steal it.”

“I really don’t need-” Tommy protests.

“Shut up,” Lovett laughs, dropping to the couch, Pippa giggling on his lap. “Jon’s been trying to get you to come write for us since he bought the goddamned magazine, we’re all happy to have you.” He nods at an iPad perched precariously on a stack of papers next to him. “You can proof the comic I have open if you want to be useful.”

Tommy nods and picks it up, sliding through the panels. He’s been equal parts intimidated by and in awe of Lovett since he met him at Jon and Emily’s wedding.

Tommy had been irrationally jealous at how both of them hung on Lovett’s every joke; they’d only met him four months prior when they moved to Emily’s hometown to be closer to her parents, when Jon bought the local magazine, determined to turn it around. Tommy had been the fucking best man, he shouldn’t have felt usurped by a guy who, when he finally read his comics in the inaugural issue Jon proudly mailed him, had insane talent.

It’s only recently that Tommy’s realized that he’s jealous of more than Lovett’s friendship with Jon.

“Why do the boys feel the need to cause emergencies for the nanny on the worst possible days?” Dan asks as he walks into the office, bringing a rush of calm and competency with him. He bends to kiss Lovett hello and Tommy freezes, not sure if it’s weirder to stare or look away.

“Because they’re hellions,” Lovett sighs. “Don’t have twins Tommy, it’s a trap.”

Dan turns on his heel, smile spreading wide over his face as he walks over to shake Tommy’s hand. “You made it. Welcome.”

“At a bad time, apparently,” Tommy grins back. In addition to being Lovett’s perfect match, Dan is one of the sharpest guys Tommy’s ever met. He’s excited to turn emails nitpicking Dan’s sports columns and casual conversation at Cam and Hunter’s birthday parties into a real friendship here.

“Well, I left our hellions with Emily, so when they corrupt Amy, you’ll want to flee back to the city,” Dan shrugs a little. “Did you get the grand tour?”

“I did,” Tommy says easily. “I think I’m gonna like it here.”

 

 

_** August:  ** _

“Uncle Dan!” Hunter screams as she runs across the deck. “When dinner?”

“Hm.” Dan lifts her to his hip easily and holds her to look over the grill from a safe distance. “Do those burgers look done to you missy?”

“Yes!” Hunter squeals, kicking at Dan’s thighs.

Dan grunts a little and resettles her, carefully away from striking distance to his crotch.

“Not quite yet Hunt,” Tommy taps her foot before he reaches to flip a burger. “Both sides have to be dark like this one, no more red on the outside.”

Hunter glares at him, her expression so like Jon’s that Tommy has to stifle a laugh. “Want dinner,” she insists with a kick.

“Soon,” Tommy promises, making a grab for her flailing limbs and lowering her back to the deck.

“Why don’t you go back to the swingset with your cousins?” Dan suggests. “They’re having fun while they wait.”

The kids do look like they’re having a good time; Amy and Sawyer swinging contentedly while Kirk and Cam chase each other up and over the slide.

“Want dinner!” Hunter insists, louder.

“Hunter!” Lovett calls across the deck from his perch on the railing next to Emily. “I’ve got carrot sticks baby, I’ll share.”

Emily slides her sunglasses up to watch Hunter toddle across the deck to grab onto Lovett’s knees. Jon slides the screen door open, arms laden with drinks, and beelines for Emily just as quickly as their daughter.

“I’m not saying six is a cakewalk,” Dan mutters as Tommy turns to flip the rest of the burgers. “But I don’t miss toddler days.”

“Full sentences are really nice,” Tommy laughs softly in agreement, “and the understanding of time and space. But-” he checks on Amy quickly, still swinging, and Hunter, now happily curled in Lovett’s lap gnawing a carrot, “they’re a lot harder to please.”

“Amy seems happy enough,” Dan follows his gaze.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighs a little. “I know it’s only been a week but she seems to love school. Are the boys singing the praises of their teacher too?”

“Mr. Cone has a mythic status in our house,” Dan laughs. “They certainly love him. I meant more than that though. She’s settling into everything. Kirk and Sawyer adore her.”

“Good,” Tommy grins at him. “I want her to feel at home here.”

“I hope she does,” Dan says, reaching for cheese for the burgers. “I hope you do too?”

Tommy shrugs a little, watching Dan expertly count the cheese slices. “I have no complaints.”

He doesn’t. Amy loves it here. The magazine may be the best job he’s ever had. Friday night barbeques are definitely a new and wonderful facet of life here. It’s great.

Dan adds three squirts of mustard on two burgers, to let it melt into the cheese, just the way Lovett likes it. Tommy shoves down the flare of jealousy at that _knowingness_.

So Tommy’s a little lonely sometimes, when Amy’s asleep at night and the too big house echoes around him, reminding him that he really needs to buy a dresser and some side tables and maybe some art. But, that’s to be expected. It’s an adjustment.

“We’d better feed the hordes,” Tommy reaches for the plate. “Before we get trampled for real.”

Dan looks at him for a second too long, his eyes kind. “Yeah, let’s.”

Tommy shakes off the sense that Dan has more to say and grabs the spatula.

 

 

_** September: ** _

“I could swear that I didn’t go to ‘Meet the Teacher Night’ with my parents as a child,” Tommy muses to Dan as they walk down the elementary school hallway behind the kids.

Dan frowns. “I don’t think I did either. You’d think the teachers would be tired of the kids and not want to see them at night t- Sawyer, no running!”

Sawyer slows to a fast jog and turns around to stick his tongue out at his dad. Dan sighs, “ _I’m_ tired of them and I don’t have to try to cram math in their heads five days a week.”

Tommy laughs. “Amy’s been begging to do her math homework, Mr. Cone’s gotta be some kind of wizard.”

“Lovett would tell you that first grade math is just easy,” Dan winks. “But it would just be his jealousy that he has to miss meeting the wizard tonight because of this convention.”

Tommy laughs. Lovett’s been bitching about missing Meet the Teacher night for the comics convention for weeks. Judging by his constant text updates, he’s finding the convention worth it though.

“I’m sure he’ll have plenty of chances later,” Tommy says ruefully. “How many PTA events is Jon roping us into?”

Dan sighs. “All of them. Start preparing your excuses not to run for council with him next year now.”

“Honestly, PTA president Jon Favreau has been in the cards since I met him,” Tommy sighs. “He dragged me into student government within three weeks of freshman year of college.”

“Daddy!” Amy cuts off Dan’s reply to grab Tommy’s hand, tugging him towards the open classroom door. “You’ve _gotta_ meet Mr. Cone, come on!”

Tommy laughs and follows her, smiling at the classroom door, covered in construction paper crayons bearing each of the kids names. Amy drags him into the room and to the board where he looks up to see-

“Elijah.”

“Tommy,” Elijah looks as surprised as Tommy feels. Then his glance shifts down and over and he smiles at Amy. “Mr. Vietor.”

Amy tugs on Tommy’s hand. “Daddy, this is Mr. Cone.”

Tommy holds out his free hand, tries not to think about where that hand was last time he saw _Amy’s first-grade teacher, holy fuck_ and shakes Elijah’s hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. Cone, Amy loves your class.”

“Amy’s doing a great job.” Elijah smiles down at her. He reaches onto the desk for a folder “Here’s our agenda for tonight and some other useful information, if you two want to find a seat.”

Tommy takes it, head spinning, as he follows Amy to a child sized chair sat beside her desk.

Behind him, Dan’s apologizing wryly, “yeah, these hellions are mine, my husband couldn’t make it tonight,” while Kirk and Sawyer audibly pull away.

Tommy squeezes his knees anxiously. So he hooked up with his daughter’s teacher. That’s certainly not going to fuck her up for life. No way this can backfire. He looks up, nervous, to see Elijah’s eyes on him as he shakes another parent’s hand.

It doesn’t have to be a problem, Tommy promises himself, leaning in to let Amy show him the clearly hand-lettered nametag on her desk. He can just avoid Elijah, avoid acknowledging the elephant in the room. It’s not a big deal, people hook up with strangers all the time.

They were pretty drunk. Maybe Elijah’s forgotten about it entirely.

 

 

_** October: ** _

“Baby please, Mama’s arms are getting tired,” Emily begs Hunter as they turn the corner. “Let Daddy carry you for a bit.”

Jon steps closer to them hopefully, for the third time. For the third time, Hunter peeps over Emily’s shoulder at his satin ruffled costume and screams, “not Daddy!”

Jon’s shoulders sink, defeated, and he drops back to walk next to Tommy. “I told you that the face powder was too much Em.”

Emily growls a little and shifts Hunter to her other hip, smoothing the ruffled feathers on Hunter’s owl costume. “How was I to know the wig would make her forget your face? Aren’t three year olds supposed to have better object permanence?”

Tommy mutters, “I’m not sure it’s the wig.”

Emily swears that Jon is wearing a Gilderoy Lockhart costume. He’s the only one out of their whole group of major and minor _Harry Potter_ characters that no one’s been able to place tonight.

Jon picks Pundit, dragging at his feet, up with a huff. “I’m still shocked her glasses and cat ears are still on.”

Emily turns to look down at him over her matching glasses, the tight bun making her face look more severe than her glare. “She’s an animagus Jon, of course her glasses are perfect.”

Tommy laughs and adjusts his scratchy Hagrid beard, eyes flicking ahead to the kids running up a driveway. Running up a familiar driveway…

“Jon, how about you take this house?” Tommy suggests, too late, as the door swings open.

“Mr. Cone!” Amy squeals in delight.

“You live here?” Kirk asks skeptically as Lovett mutters behind Tommy, “didn’t know he lived in the neighborhood.”

“Tommy did,” Jon says slowly, turning towards Tommy with a look of dawning understanding on his face.

Tommy determinedly looks away from him and right at Elijah. He’s got a floppy white hat on his head, hair gelled into a swoosh poking out of it. There’s a construction paper mustache taped under his nose and his midsection is engulfed in a red cardboard tube.

He looks ridiculous. Tommy can’t stop his brain from visualizing what he’d look like with the cardboard peeled away.

Lovett hooks his elbow through Tommy’s. “Come on, I want to give Mr. Cone a wand.”

Tommy turns to glare at the handful of plastic wands Lovett is brandishing, seemingly undepleted by the dozens of children he’s handed them to as he walks. His fluffy wig is crooked. “Was that a double entendre?”

Lovett arches an eyebrow, the fluffy fake cotton Emily glued on with eyelash glue bobbing ridiculously. “The wand chooses the wizard Tommy,” he intones seriously, only making Tommy more certain that he’s the butt of a joke.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” Amy is informing Elijah as Tommy and Lovett reach the porch, sounding so much like _Sorcerer’s Stone_ -era Emma Watson that it’s uncanny. “Kirk and Sawyer are Ron and Harry. Cam is-”

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” Cam cuts her off in the booming voice he’s affected all night. He mostly sounds like he’s got a cold, but the younger kids seem impressed. He holds Leo out, unprotesting in his arms. “This is my phoenix, Fawkes.”

“He’s really a dog,” Sawyer whispers helpfully. “And Cam’s little sister is my owl, Hedwig.”

“You all look wonderful,” Elijah laughs, eyes twinkling. “Have you been reading _Harry Potter_ with your parents at home?”

“Yes!” They chorus excitedly.

Cam puffs out his chest. “I’m reading the Gob- The Goblet of Fire with my mom now. These three would be too scared by it, but I’m not.”

Lovett snorts and Tommy elbows him. Emily’s been trying to get past the dragons without tears for a month.

Elijah’s eyes flick to Lovett and Tommy, blinking a little before he looks back at the kids. “I’m glad you’re all enjoying them. They’re some of my favorite books,” he says placidly, holding out the candy bowl.

“What’s your costume Mr. Cone?” Amy asks, head tilted up.

“Ah-” Elijah flushes a little. “I’m a Pringles Can.”

“He’s plain flavor cause he’s boring,” a shorter guy, dressed identically to Elijah but for the white tube around his waist, pokes his head out of the house. “I’m pizza. We had a sour cream and onion but he ditched us three bags of candy ago.”

“Original Pringles are my dad’s favorite,” Amy says, ever loyal.

Tommy’s chest clenches as Elijah looks up and meets his eyes, face unreadable.

“Tommy’s got no taste,” Lovett laughs easily.

Tommy elbows him as the Pizza Pringles guy hisses, “ _that’s_ -”

Elijah very noticeably steps on his foot. “I’ll ah, see you three in class tomorrow, yeah?” Elijah says, a little stilted, leaning down towards Amy and the twins. “Don’t eat so much sugar tonight that your brains don’t work.”

“No promises,” Kirk says boldly, stepping backwards.

“What do we say?” Tommy prods as the kids descend the porch.

They chorus obediently, “thank you Mr. Cone,” and run towards Emily for her blessing to go to the next house.

Despite himself, Tommy looks back over his shoulder. Elijah’s head is bent towards pizza guy’s, hands gesticulating as he mutters something that might be a reprimand.

“Tommy,” Jon says immediately at the bottom of the driveway. “You-”

Lovett, to his credit, waits until they’re three houses down, the kids at a porch, Emily and Dan both tripping over black robes to follow, before he says, voice low, “I can’t believe you hooked up with our kids’ teacher.”

“How’d you know?” Tommy whirls on him.

“You just told me,” Lovett laughs. “But honestly it’s obvious now. You’ve been hiding from him at every fucking PTA event.”

Jon’s eyes flick between them, suspicious. “When? _Why?_ ”

“When you took me out to that stupid bar the first night we moved in,” Tommy mutters tersely.

“The why is obvious,” Lovett says helpfully, “Mr. Cone is hot.”

“You’re _married_ ,” Jon gasps.

“How’s he cheating on me now?” Dan asks, sliding an arm around Lovett’s shoulders as he stops next to them. “Don’t run!” he calls to the boys as they take off down the street.

Tommy swallows at their easy contact as Lovett pushes scraggly black synthetic hair out of Dan’s face.

“He’s being inappropriate about your kids’ teacher,” Jon rats him out.

“What? Mr. Cone? He’s cute,” Dan shrugs. “Why are we talking about it now though, a little close to his house, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Tommy mumbles through his fingers. “Let’s talk about literally anything else.”

“Later,” Jon promises, shoving Pundit at Dan, “you’re telling us everything.”

 

 

_** November: ** _

Tommy is pacing in the first grade hallway.

It takes sixteen steps to get from Ms. Smith’s door to Mrs. MacAvoy’s. Another twenty steps to Ms. Elliott’s. Fifteen to Mrs. Caffrey’s. Sixty-eight back to his starting point, three feet down from Elijah’s door.

Tommy’s never noticed before, that all the first-grade teachers except Elijah are women. He wonders- he doesn’t wonder why that is, Tommy supposes. Teaching is supposed to be women’s work, though he has a vague recollection that that perception is a fairly recent feature of sexism. Unmarried women on the plains or something.

Seventeen steps to Ms. Smith’s door.

He does wonder whether it’s strange, or lonely. For Elijah. He should check the gender breakdown of the other elementary teachers.

There’s probably some benefit to Amy of diversity in the classroom that Tommy missed the parenting course on. Every day, he discovers things he’s just _meant to know_ about parenting, that he didn’t learn because he was working eighty-hour weeks, because Hanna had it covered, because he didn’t have the brain space to care about writing notes in banana peels while trying to keep his world from spinning apart.

Sixteen steps to Mrs. MacAvoy’s door.

Jon will know about diversity in teachers. Emily will too, in the terrifying system that’s her brain, but Jon will know the amount of funding the school board puts into diversity hires, into training teachers, into teaching kids about viewpoints other than their own. Jon will know exactly what Tommy should do, who to call or what petition to sign or which school board meeting to attend, to get Amy the best teacher next year; he always does.

Twenty steps to Ms. Elliott’s door.

The hallway is lined with tiny little handprints, decorated into turkeys in every color and pattern. Amy’s been bringing home a turkey hand every day of the month. Each of the rooms seems to have a different theme for the turkey hands. Fruits and Vegetables; Animals; Famous Americans.

Amy’s have all been Flags of the World, leaving a striped rainbow coloring the fridge. She comes home with facts about different countries every day, brimming with _Mr. Cone said that China has over 1_ billion _people that live there! Can you imagine, Daddy?_ and _The Lou-va-re is the most visited museum in the world. Can we go see the Mon-a Li-sa someday?_

Thirteen steps to Ms. Caffrey’s door, walking faster now.

Last week she came home with a library book about a cow that travels the world. _Mr. Cone said it’s really good!_

Tommy thinks the book is seared into his memory, with how many times he read it to Amy. _In Switzerland, Cherry saw her Swiss cousins. They let her sample the wonderful cheese and chocolate that their people made with their milk._

Only twelve steps back to Ms. Elliott’s door.

Amy could almost read the whole book by the time she had to return it, though Tommy’s pretty sure she just memorized it. She’s been reading more and more lately, though. Demolishing every book that moved with them, every book Tommy buys her, every hand-me down from Cam. She picked up the latest issue of the magazine two nights ago and started reading Lovett’s comic with precision until she got to: _motherfucker_ and Tommy took the magazine away.

Fifteen steps to Mrs. MacAvoy’s this time.

He should probably ask Elijah for recommendations for books that will keep her challenged and not teach her language she can’t repeat on the playground. That seems like something appropriate to ask at a parent-teacher conference in lieu of _Do you think about that night?_ and _Do you think I’m fucking up my kid_? or, most damningly, _Will you go out with me? For real this time?_

Fourteen steps to Ms. Smith’s door.

“Tommy?” Lovett says from down the hall.

Tommy looks up to see Dan shaking hands with Elijah, Lovett quickly crossing the seventeen steps to Ms. Smith’s door to squeeze Tommy’s elbow reassuringly. “Your turn.”

Twenty-three steps to Mr. Cone’s door, when Tommy’s trying not to get there. One smile from Dan as he turns away to follow Lovett. Three steps inside the doorway, following Elijah, not letting his eyes drift down.

Seven steps across the alphabet rug to the chair in front of Elijah’s desk, adult-sized, thank God.

Elijah looks down at the papers on his desk, shuffling papers awkwardly. “So, Mr. Vietor, Amy’s an exceptionally bright kid. I have more trouble keeping her busy than anything else.”

“I know the feeling,” Tommy says lamely. Elijah has a pencil cup on his desk that reads _Teachers do it with Class_ and a glittery, sequined apple that’s too neat to have been made by a student.

“She’s very creative and enthusiastic in her artwork,” Elijah pulls a drawing out of the folder in front of him. It’s yet another of Amy’s puppy drawings, all curls and a big smile and unrecognizable as a dog if you haven’t been strictly lectured about it five times.

Tommy chuckles. “She’s on a mission to get a puppy.”

“So I’ve heard,” Elijah smiles a little, looking over Tommy’s head at the drawings on the walls, where several more puppies are hanging near Kirk’s enthusiastic trees and Sawyer’s lightsabers and a wide array of first grade crayon work.

“No one is home during the day,” Tommy explains unnecessarily. “And my office is dog-friendly but puppy-friendly is another level.”

“But a cute level,” Elijah counters.

“You’ve been swayed by all the propaganda!” Tommy retorts. “Amy and I get plenty of dog time from Leo and Pundit, we don’t need more hair to vacuum.”

Elijah chuckles softly. “Just be grateful the yearly lice outbreak hasn’t hit yet.”

“No thank you,” Tommy shudders. “Maybe it will skip this year?”

“Make sure she knows not to share her winter hat,” Elijah warns. “And buy a bottle of the shampoo now.”

Tommy frowns and pulls out his phone to make a note. Lice shampoo feels like another thing he ought to just _know_ as a parent.

“Anyway,” Elijah continues. “Her math is exceeding grade level targets and her reading is also above average.”

He’s looking at a spot near Tommy’s left ear.

“Amy’s underperforming a bit in science and social studies, but I think it’s because she’s bored. I’ve been trying to do what I can, but I think she might benefit from doing simple science experiments at home - baking soda volcano, maybe some bug collecting when it’s warmer, I’ll give you a website that has a bunch.”

Tommy nods distractedly. He can probably get Lovett and the twins in on science experiments too. Elijah looks back down at his notes, fidgeting.

“She really seemed to like the world facts,” Tommy offers, when the silence drags a little too long.

“Good,” Elijah smiles, at Tommy’s left shoulder this time. His smile seems a little forced and tight and-

“I’m not fucking ashamed you know,” Tommy says, too loud, out of nowhere. The harsh words trip out of his mouth before he knows he’s going to say them, all the swirling thoughts in his head crystallizing into one dark pit of anger and shame and fear.

Elijah looks at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“Why won’t you look me in the eye?” Tommy asks instead of answering. Elijah’s eyes, even now, are darting back and forth, unsteady.

“You know,” Elijah says soft and calm and controlled. “You’ve never once looked me in the eyes. Not sober. Not even the morning- before you knew I was Amy’s teacher.”

Tommy’s brain spins. That can’t be true. He’s been looking at Elijah for the past ten minutes, let alone when he passed him a cup of fruit punch at the Harvest Dance two weeks ago, when they accidentally trick-or-treated his house on Halloween, at the school board meeting, at Meet-the-Teacher night.

“Tommy,” Elijah says, still in the gentle voice it’s easy to imagine him using on a freaked out first grader, “I don’t expect anything from you. I’m not sure what you’re expecting from yourself, though.” He sighs and holds out the folder on his desk.

Tommy takes it with shaking hands.

“I know Amy’s probably hard to keep in books,” Elijah says as he stands up, unfolding gracefully from his chair. “I made a list of things she might like - a little more challenging than books about types of apples or Rabbit’s farmyard friends.”

“Thank you,” Tommy manages through his tight throat. “She loves your class.”

Seven steps to the door. Two steps to turn. Sixty-eight steps to the end of the hallway. Thirty-five to the front door. Forty-two to his car.

Three deep breaths before he starts to cry.

 

 

 _** December ** _ ** :  **

Tommy’s alarm goes off at four a.m.

He’s already awake, feeling like, well, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.

It still takes a fumbling second to turn off the alarm; a muttered curse when he nearly drops his phone; three tries to get his feet into his slippers and his arms into his robe - new and patterned with pastel Christmas trees to match Amy’s - in the dark.

Tommy tiptoes down the hallway, stepping carefully over Amy’s tripline for Santa - damn you Emily for all the Christmas hijinks movies - and down the stairs. The presents are undisturbed where he left them last night, barring the most important, which he pulls out of the closet, staggering a little under its weight.

The clock over the microwave blinks 4:15 as Tommy starts the coffee maker and pads to the front door, propping it open with the Santa shaped block his mom unearthed from a box at his grandmother’s house.

Jon’s already jogging down the street, looking stupidly cold in his unseasonable fleece zip up. As he gets closer, Tommy can see the moving bulge under the front.

“It’s fucking freezing,” Jon huffs as he jogs up the driveway.

“Wear a real coat,” Tommy retorts, reaching for the leash wrapped around Jon’s wrist and the puppy poking her head out of his jacket. “Hi sweetie, were you good last night?”

“I think the kids are gonna riot if we don’t get another one, thanks a lot,” Jon laughs, rubbing his hands together as Tommy sets the puppy down in the frosted grass to sniff around and hopefully, pee before Amy gets her too excited.

“Seeing as it’s mostly your fault I got _one_ ,” Tommy retorts. “We’re literally going to bring her over for dinner in twelve hours, it’s like they all have a puppy.”

“It takes a village,” Jon says solemnly. “And it’s bold of you to assume it’s going to take twelve hours for Cam to crash through your door demanding to know what Amy’s named her. We’re lucky we only had her for a day and a half and that you were at your mom’s yesterday, the kids would never have kept the secret.”

Tommy laughs. “ _You_ wouldn’t have kept the secret.”

Jon shrugs. “Fair. Amy’s gonna love her.”

“Want a cup of coffee?” Tommy offers, then, “good _girl_ ,” as the puppy pees.

Jon shakes his head “I gotta get back, kid wakeup is imminent and Santa is still wrapping the last few presents.”

“Thank Emily for her sacrifice,” Tommy laughs as Jon jogs backwards.

“Send me pictures of Ames’ face,” Jon calls back before turning and speeding up.

Tommy laughs after him and picks the puppy up again. “Welcome home little bean,” he murmurs, stroking her curly head, “let’s go get you ready for your girl.”

By 4:45, the puppy is settled in her crate, oversized bow dangling off the top and sides. Tommy’s halfway through his coffee, and most of the way through his Twitter feed.

Amy’s pounding steps echo in the hallway as she yells, “Daddy, it’s _Christmas_!”

Tommy laughs and walks to meet her at the bottom of the steps, opening his camera app. “Morning darling. Merry Christmas.”

“Did Santa come?” Amy asks, wide-eyed.

“Go find out,” Tommy steps aside to let her run into the living room. He holds up his phone and presses record as he follows her.

Her reaction is immediate, exhilarating, and earsplitting. “ _Daddy!_ A _puppy_?!”

Tommy laughs and slides to the floor beside her, grinning at the crate where the puppy is wiggling as excitedly as Ames is. “Open the door and let her out honey.”

Amy slides the latch and the puppy flings herself into Amy’s lap, yipping and licking at Amy’s face immediately. Amy giggles and tips backward a little, her smile splitting her face.

Tommy shifts to take a dozen pictures of the two of them squirming and giggling together until the puppy tires and flops down in Amy’s lap.

Amy scoots forward to sling her arms around Tommy’s neck. “Thank you Daddy, I love her.”

“You made a compelling case.” Tommy kisses Amy’s head, reaching to scratch curly puppy ears. “Just don’t forget all the promises you made about feeding her and walking her and helping to train her.”

“I won’t,” Amy swears, eyes wide. “Can I name her anything in the world?”

“Ahh,” Tommy stalls, imagining how far awry this could go. “What are you thinking?”

“I want to name her Bedelia,” Amy says instantly. “We could call her Delia for short. Then she and I would be Amelia Bedelia and we can have all kinds of adventures.”

Tommy chuckles. Leave it to Amy to create a literary theme for herself and her dog. “I think Bedelia is a wonderful name,” he promises, “And I’m sure the two of you are going to have amazing adventures.”

 

 

_** January: ** _

“Daddy, how long do you think you could survive in an igloo?” Amy asks from the backseat.

“I don’t know,” Tommy frowns, steering carefully through the whiteout in front of him. “Hopefully we’ll never have to find out.”

“In the book I read about dogsledding last week, Trish learned to make a snow cave so that if she was ever caught in a storm, she’d be safe.”

“That’s important for dogsledding I’m sure,” Tommy frowns and flicks his brights on. That’s worse and he flicks them back off immediately. “But we’re not in the middle of the wilderness, we’re safe in the car,” he promises. It has the benefit of being true, the gas tank is nearly full and they’re less than five miles from home, though it’ll take them two hours at this rate.

“I think Delia would like to pull a sled,” Amy says for what must be the hundredth time.

Delia barks from Amy’s lap at her name and Tommy sighs. “Maybe when she’s a bit bigger you can try in the backyard.”

“When she’s bigger, there won’t be this perfect snow,” Amy argues. “You need snow to-”

“Shh Amy,” Tommy frowns at a dark shape on the side of the road. There’s a light bobbing around the parked car. “I think someone might be stuck, let me see what’s going on.”

“What if it’s a cryptid?” Amy asks interestedly, leaning forward in her booster seat.

“It’s not a cryptid,” Tommy frowns. Lovett has a wildly inappropriate idea of a bedtime story. The figure - person, it’s a person - straightens up as Tommy rolls closer.

Tommy rolls down the passenger window slowly. “Need some help?”

“That’s Mr. Cone’s coat!” Amy yelps, just as the man himself appears under a thick layer of snow.

“So it is,” Tommy swallows. “Car trouble Mr. Cone?”

Tommy hasn’t seen Elijah since his disastrous breakdown at parent-teacher conferences. Not closer than the end of the carpool line, anyway. Seven weeks of overthinking, four therapy appointments, and one school Christmas party that he made Emily take Amy to later, Tommy feels pretty fucking foolish.

Elijah shakes some of the snow off his face. “Yeah, I’ve needed a new car since… a while, and my phone’s dead, of course. Can I use your cell to call my roommate?”

“Sure,” Tommy digs for his phone. “Or- We’re driving past your place on our way home. We could drop you off and then your roommate doesn’t have to drive into the blizzard too?”

It’s not strictly true but it won’t be much out of their way. And Tommy doesn’t want to think about how long Elijah will be stuck out here if he says no.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” Elijah frowns, shifting from foot to foot.

“It’s really not a problem,” Tommy takes a careful breath. It’s not, he tells himself, it’ll be ten minutes, tops.

“You could get frostbite!” Amy chimes in helpfully from the backseat. “You could lose a finger!”

Elijah chuckles, “I’m not sure it’s that cold Amy.”

“Come on,” Tommy jerks his head, “or we’re going to be making up stories about you losing body parts all night and it’s already past her bedtime.”

“If you insist,” Elijah fumbles with the door.

“I do,” Tommy says, surprising himself with his even tone. He rolls the window up as Elijah slides into the front seat, his shivering more obvious this close.

Everything is more obvious this close, Tommy realizes, as Elijah shoves off his hood, snow falling out of his hair. Elijah’s kind, beautiful eyes, sparkling as he turns to smile at Amy. His steadying breath, still coming in puffs of steam as Tommy forces himself to turn back to the road. The faint scent of whatever shampoo or aftershave he uses that Tommy had noticed the very first time they got close in that bar as Tommy starts rolling down the street again.

“Mr. Cone,” Amy squeals, “you can meet Delia!”

Tommy’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror where Amy is holding the wriggling puppy in the air.

Elijah laughs and reaches out a hand to guide Delia back to Amy’s lap. “Ah, yes, the famous Bedelia. I feel honored.”

Amy giggles wildly. “She licked your hand, that means she likes you.”

“I’m honored,” Elijah says seriously.

“She’s going to learn how to pull a sled,” Amy says, undeterred from her master plan by the sudden rescue of her teacher. “If she already knew how, Delia and I could have come to your car and pulled you out.”

“Thank you so much for introducing her to the Artic,” Tommy mutters. “It’s led to very realistic dreams.”

Elijah chuckles and settles into the front seat. “I spent most of my childhood swearing I was going to go west and become a cowboy when I grew up. Less cold, just as many survival skills.”

“Cowboys have _herding_ dogs,” Amy chimes in excitedly.

“That’s true,” Elijah agrees. “My family’s golden retriever did not particularly want to herd my toy cows though.”

Tommy snorts, “probably was more interested in eating them?”

“Two emergency trips to the vet,” Elijah laughs. “Then the cows had to stay in my bedroom.”

Tommy chances a glance sideways as he signals the turn onto Elijah’s street. Elijah is smiling at him, small but sincere, and Tommy can’t help but smile back.

“My family dogs mostly wanted to swim,” Tommy says in return. “The whole house smelled like wet dog and was dripping with wet bathing suits and towels all summer, my mom hated it.”

“Nana had a _pool_?” Amy gasps, affronted.

“We lived down the street from a pond,” Tommy corrects. “And Uncle Jon and Aunt Em have a pool, so no, we are not getting one.”

“Delia wants a pool,” Amy pouts.

“Delia can swim with Leo at Aunt Em’s,” Tommy shrugs.

“That seems like a fair compromise,” Elijah laughs. “If you had your own pool it would take up your whole yard Amy.”

Amy thinks about that for a minute before conceding, “that’s true. Cam and Hunter don’t have as nice of a climbing tree as I do.”

“You let them climb yours all the time, and they invite you into their pool,” Tommy points out. “It works out for everybody.”

“Can we have a _baby_ pool for Delia?” Amy shoots back.

Tommy sighs.

“Master saleswoman,” Elijah murmurs. “It’s that one.”

Tommy knows.

He parks the car on the side of the road, only sliding a little. “No driveway service tonight, I don’t think I’d get out.”

“I’m leaving you a one star review,” Elijah says solemnly. “Really, thanks so much for this Tommy.” His eyes are warm and his smile is bright and Tommy can’t stop looking. “Goodnight Amelia Bedelia.”

Amy beams at him, “Night Mr. Cone, I’m glad you didn’t get frostbite.”

Tommy watches in slow motion as Elijah pulls his hood back up and pushes the door open into the wind. Watches Elijah unfold from the car, the words sliding around his mouth. Watches Elijah turn back to close the door and forces his lips apart.

“Hey Elijah.”

Elijah leans back towards the door.

“I’m, ahh, sorry about the-”

Elijah’s mouth quirks in what might be a smile. “Don’t mention it. Really.”

Then he shuts the door and trudges away, the car feeling colder without his presence. Tommy shakes himself and puts the car in drive.

“Home again, home again,” he tells Amy.

“Jiggety-jig,” she says sleepily, staring out the window as Elijah disappears.

 

 

_** February:  ** _

“Travis did you give my child a _Hot Ass_ cookie?” Tanya shrieks.

There’s a piercing squeal, as Tanya presumably takes the cookie from Pippa.

“What, she can’t read!” Travis protests.

Lovett slams the office door shut. “I swear to god we’re going to end up with a harassment lawsuit,” he mutters, sitting on the edge of Tommy’s desk with his own handful of naughty conversation heart cookies. “Do you think Dan would turn redder at _Make me wet_ or _Punish me_?”

“Ah,” Tommy swallows. “I don’t know if I can say.”

Tommy half suspects that Lovett is responsible for the cookies that turned up an hour ago, with an unsigned card. Jon and Dan may lose it when they get back from their interview.

“I’m going with _Make me wet_ ,” Lovett says thoughtfully. “He might take the other too literally. Here, this one’s for you.”

He hands Tommy a cookie that reads _I bite_. Tommy’s caught between gratitude that it’s not worse and embarrassment at the images his brain is trying to shove in front of him.

Lovett laughs, presumably at the look on Tommy’s face. “God, lighten up. Does it really make you that uncomfortable when I even reference sex?”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Tommy sighs. “I mean, I am, we’re in our fucking _office_. But I’m not like, uncomfortable because, ah-”

“Was not accusing you of homophobia,” Lovett laughs again. He tilts his head to look at Tommy. “You need to get laid,” he pronounces. “Or, more than that, really, you look like a lonely puppy in an ASPCA ad.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy says automatically. He doesn’t look _that_ pathetic.

“Seriously,” Lovett swings towards him, taking a bite out of _Lick Me_. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”

“Ah-” _before the divorce. Unless you count-_ “A while.” Tommy sighs. “It’s not the time, I’ve got Amy and work and-”

“Pfft,” Lovett snorts. “Don’t blame this fucking office. Amy wants to see you happy. She could handle it. We’d all like you to be happy. Fuck, Hanna probably wants you to be happy and move on.”

Tommy snorts. “I don’t think Hanna gives a fuck.”

“Fair,” Lovett allows. “Eat your cookie.” He kicks the desk aimlessly, watching Tommy carefully. “You should just ask him out, for real.”

Tommy’s heart pounds.

“Who?” he asks, a beat too late.

“You’re not that stupid,” Lovett eyeballs him, steady. “You’re fucking pining, it’s embarrassing. I saw you when we dropped the kids off this morning with their valentines, you desperately want to give Elijah a card that says _Be Mine_ with a cute little puppy or kitten on it.”

Tommy really thought he’d been cooler than this.

“Even if,” Tommy swallows, “you were right, he’s my daughter’s teacher.”

“Only for four more months,” Lovett shrugs. “Which I figure is about as long as it will take for you to figure out how to make a move.”

“I don’t-”

Lovett jumps off Tommy’s desk. “I’m giving Jon _Punish Me_ , it’ll be fucking hilarious,” he says archly as he drops a cookie on Dan’s desk and then one on Jon’s.

“Hilarious,” Tommy echoes hollowly. “We’ll have to take a picture of his face for Em.”

“Please,” Lovett scoffs. “I’m taking a video.” He slides into his own desk chair and scoops Pundit into his lap before looking back at Tommy, thoughtful. “I’m being serious, you know. Even if it’s not Elijah, you deserve to have someone.”

Tommy swallows. “Ahh,” he looks down at his desk. “I’ll think about it?”

It takes him three minutes of typing and deleting an email to be sure his voice is steady enough to say, “hey Lovett? Thanks.”

“Eat your cookie,” Lovett says with a grin.

 

 

_** March: ** _

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. In the moment, staring across the bar in the oddest moment of deja vu stops Tommy’s heart.

Jon was feeling nostalgic, or swept up in his bracket, or just wanted a night out, and of course Tommy followed his lead recklessly, like he’s followed every one of Jon’s ideas for a decade. Dan loves basketball of all kinds, of course, and Lovett hasn’t stopped bitching since they left the office - which means he’s enjoying himself.

Tommy _should_ have realized that there’s only one bar in town with decent TVs. He _should_ have remembered the faded UNC bumper sticker, the poster of the chapel in the living room as he tripped through it, the crumpled fleece blanket in the corner of Elijah’s bedroom.

He should have been expecting it. Judging by the look on Lovett’s face, _he_ was expecting it.

Elijah gives Tommy a sheepish wave across the bar and Tommy can’t make himself draw breath.

He must smile or nod or wave back. He must do something beside staring like an idiot, because Elijah slides off his stool and taps the guy next to him’s elbow - _his friend, it must be a friend_ , Tommy’s lizard brain yells jealously - and then Elijah is walking around the bar, fucking _grinning_ as he comes up to them.

“Mr. Cone,” Jon says, not at all subtly.

“God, Elijah, please,” Elijah grins back. “No kids here.”

He’s drunk, Tommy realizes. Easy and loose and open, face flushed.

“UNC fan?” Dan is asking, nodding at Elijah’s shirt.

“Yeah, I grew up in Wilmington,” Elijah shrugs. “A little out of place up here, but, ah,” he gestures around, “they’re playing well tonight and no one seems too fussed.”

“It’s been a good game,” Dan allows, with a flick of his eyes to the screen.

Elijah raises his eyebrows. “Enthusiastic.”

“Dan likes _Georgetown_ ,” Lovett drawls, his arms and legs wrapped around Dan’s torso like some kind of cuddly sloth, _many_ drinks in. Tommy is _not_ dwelling on all the easy, possessive ways they touch. Not now, not here.

Dan pats Lovett’s hand absently where it’s resting over Dan’s heart. “I do, but also I have the Heels losing tonight.”

Elijah shakes his head. “Monster.”

“Sorry,” Dan shrugs, unapologetic.

“Eh,” Elijah shrugs. “My bracket’s been busted since day one because I let myself get convinced into dropping Duke in the first round,” with a glance over his shoulder at his _friend_ at the bar. The guy _is_ decked out in even more Carolina Blue than Elijah is.

“That was dumb,” Tommy laughs, a beat too late, a beat too hollow.

“It was,” Elijah grins right at him, eyes electric. “But you know, friends with enthusiasm and chutzpah, what are you going to do?”

“I know that struggle,” Tommy elbows Jon demonstratively. All too well. Letting friends with enthusiasm lead him right back to the scene of what might be his worst mistake in this town.

Or, Tommy thinks with sudden clarity, as Elijah keeps grinning at him, might turn out differently, if Tommy lets it.

“I gotta get back,” Elijah nods to his seat, “just wanted to say hey.”

“Good to see you,” Dan grins.

“Yeah, it is,” Tommy echoes, meaning it.

 

 

_** April: ** _

On the first truly nice day of spring, Elijah meets Tommy on the carpool line with a rueful smirk and a bright red pamphlet.

Tommy frowns at the sheet as Amy and Sawyer and Kirk and Cam pile into the back of the van. _Lice Reported in Roosevelt Elementary_. The dire heading is followed by a ten step checklist.

“You’re kidding,” Tommy groans.

Elijah shakes his head, “Unfortunately no. And-” he glances back into the car, “I saw Amy scratching a few times today.”

Tommy sighs. “Great.”

“Have fun!” Elijah waves and turns to deliver his bad news to the next parent in line.

“Guess we’re having a hair washing party guys,” Tommy announces as he pulls away from the curb.

“A what?” Kirk wrinkles his nose.

“We probably have lice,” Cam tells him knowledgeably. “Creepy crawly bugs on your head laying eggs.”

“ _Ew_!” Sawyer shrieks in panic. “That’s not true! Uncle Tommy, are they going to take over our brains?”

“Cameron,” Tommy sighs. “No, they’re not going to take over your brains Sawyer.”

“Daddy and Uncle Jon will wash them out,” Amy tells Sawyer confidently. Predictably, her blind confidence settles Sawyer more than Tommy’s reassurances ever could.

“Yeah we are,” Tommy agrees, smiling at Amy in the rearview. “We have a special shampoo at home.”

He turns onto the street and winces when he sees Jon on the steps with Hunter, waving at them happily.

“Dad, we have lice!” Cam announces as soon as Tommy pulls to a stop.

“ _What_?” Jon’s face goes white.

Tommy rolls his eyes “I’ll run home and get the shampoo, why don’t you throw them all under the hose?”

Jon’s great in an actual crisis once you give him a task to do.

When Tommy returns with the shampoo and the fine combs he’d bought after Elijah’s initial warning, Jon’s got all four kids lined up in stools at the kitchen counter, Hunter happily strapped into her high chair and throwing cereal at the dogs. The kids are all in the swimsuits that live in Emily and Jon’s closet, hair damp.

Tommy grins and holds up his full hands “I have the magic potion.”

Sawyer squints at him skeptically “Is it gonna hurt?”

“Nope,” Tommy promises. “Who wants to go first?”

Amy glances at Sawyer’s trembling shoulders and Kirk’s wide eyes. “I will.”

Tommy grins at her and squeezes her shoulders, “that’s my girl.”

“She’s gonna take the longest anyway,” Jon frowns as Tommy lathers Amy’s head. “All that hair.”

Tommy shrugs and passes Jon the bottle and the other comb. “Get started on Cam then.”

“Alright trouble,” Jon laughs, tugging at Cam’s ear.

Cam gripes and moans through the whole thing, but Jon’s done with him and moving on to the twins before Tommy’s a quarter of the way through Amy’s hair, his rinse cup already clouded with drowned lice and floating eggs.

Kirk swallows nervously, “be gentle Uncle Jon.”

“What if we sing a song while we comb?” Jon suggests carefully, reaching for the soap.

Amy giggles loudly and chants, “I’m going on a squeegee hunt.”

Tommy flips Jon off behind her back while the boys yell, “going on a squeegee hunt!”

“I’m not afraid.”

“I’m not afraid!”

Jon shrugs and combs Kirk’s hair, grinning smugly when Kirk doesn’t even flinch.

By the time Emily gets home, the kids are parked in front of the TV, lice free. Tommy’s washing Leo and Delia for the third time while Jon collects every piece of fabric in the house, whole body vibrating with panic now that the actual crisis is over.

“What’s going on?” Emily raises her eyebrows as Jon darts past with one of Hunter’s baby dolls.

“Lice at school,” Tommy shrugs, grabbing Delia as Leo makes a run for Emily.

“Ah,” Emily grabs a discarded towel from the back of a chair and wraps Leo in it. “You… keep doing that then.” She turns towards the kids, “who wants to go get ice cream?”

“Me!” all five of them chorus.

 

 

 _** May: ** _

“Mother’s Day craft in their backpacks,” Emily mutters in warning when Tommy picks Amy up at her door.

“Fuck,” Tommy sighs, looking at Amy, already halfway down the driveway. “Thanks for the heads up.

He worries the whole way home. Amy seems to be walking slower than normal, but she’s chattering away like any other day, giggling as Delia bounds ahead of them to sniff at flowers.

Amy’s seemed to take to the divorce so easily. Tommy’s been taking her to a therapist once a month, just like he promised the judge, and the therapist has agreed. She loves her school, she loves her friends, she loves living near Jon and Emily.

She loves Tommy.

She doesn’t seem to miss her mom anymore.

There’d been tears at the beginning. And Amy’s always happy to take Hanna’s calls, looks forward to visiting her over the summer. But she doesn’t ask, like the books had said she would, when they’re getting back together or why Mom’s so far away.

 _Kids are adaptable,_ the therapist promises. _She’s got a good life here_. Even so, _someday it might change. You just have to keep loving her the best you can._

Mothers’ Day might be a trigger. Tommy’s been worrying about it for weeks as the cards filled the stores and the ads filled the TV and radio. They’re not making breakfast in bed on Sunday or ordering flowers. He’s not sure how Amy will handle that.

“Daddy can we have pizza for dinner?” Amy interrupts his thoughts.

“No,” Tommy says automatically. “We have chicken and vegetables for stir fry.”

“Do we have the special sauce?”

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs. The special sauce is just Costco brand teriyaki, but Amy would eat it every night if he let her.

Amy nods, satisfied, as Tommy opens the door. Then she says, casually, “Mothers’ Day is on Sunday.”

“Ah, yeah,” Tommy turns towards her carefully. “We’ll call your mom. Maybe you can FaceTime.”

“Okay,” Amy agrees easily. “We made presents in class last week. Mr. Cone said I could make mine for you, even though they were supposed to be for our moms.”

She digs in her backpack easily, coming out with a tile, decorated with two of her thumbprints to form a heart. In Amy’s sloppy handwriting, the words _I love you Daddy_ curl around the edges, with the date written in Elijah’s neat print.

“Sawyer and Kirk made them for their dads too, obviously,” Amy continues while Tommy stares. “It hangs on the wall, see the holes? We made them last week but Mr. Cone had to take them to the art studio to glaze them and put the holes in so we just got them today.”

Tommy blinks back the tears in his eyes, tracing the words. “Thank you Amy, I love it.”

Amy hugs him, “Don’t cry Daddy, it’s just art.”

“I love it a lot,” Tommy tells her with a sniff. “Sometimes art that you love makes you cry.” He carefully sets the tile on the coffee table. “We’ll put it on the wall after dinner.”

“Special Sauce!” Amy cheers, racing ahead of him into the kitchen, Mothers’ Day already forgotten.

 

 

_**June:** _

Amy’s crying when Jon and Tommy get to the pick-up line.

“Hey, bug, what’s wrong?” Tommy asks, scooping her up and onto his hip.

“Last day of school, we’re going for ice cream!” Jon adds, leaning towards them while grabbing for Kirk’s backpack before he can run away.

Amy sobs harder.

Sawyer tugs at Tommy’s elbow intently. “She didn’t get to say goodbye to Mr. Cone because Callie was having a tantrum,” Sawyer says solemnly.

“Oh,” Tommy sighs, looking between the kids. “Is that it Ames?”

Amy sniffles into his shoulder, her head bobbing miserably.

Tommy looks at Jon helplessly. He’d never been _sad_ on the last day of school. But then again, he’d never had a teacher like Elijah.

“Would you-” Tommy asks quietly, trailing off and knowing Jon will understand his meaning.

“Of course,” Jon holds out his hand for Delia’s leash.

“Ames,” Tommy shifts her a little. “What if we go, _quickly_ , and see if we can find him now? We’ll meet everybody on the playground and then go get ice cream?”

“ _Please_?” Amy gasps a little. “Can we?”

“Yeah baby,” Tommy kisses her head. “I can’t promise we’ll succeed but we can try,” he warns, not sure what teachers do after all the students leave on the last day.

“We’ll see you guys in a bit,” Jon tugs on Kirk and pushes Hunter’s stroller towards the playground. _Not her teacher anymore_ , he mouths to Tommy.

Tommy flips him off with the hand holding Amy’s waist and heads for the school doors.

He has to sweet talk Mrs. MacAvoy at the door with a white lie about Amy forgetting something in the classroom, _probably a terrible example to set_ , but they get inside and down the first grade hallway. Amy’s tears have slowed to sad sniffs, her head still resting on Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy sneaks a peek inside Elijah’s door. Elijah’s erasing the chalkboard, seeming focused and intent.

“Knock,” Tommy murmurs, as he sets Amy on the floor carefully.

Amy carefully taps on the door, clutching a bright piece of paper Tommy hadn’t noticed before in her hand.

Elijah looks up, confusion melting into a warm smile. “Hey Amy, did you forget something?”

Amy trips across the colored floor to stand in front of Elijah, looking up with wide eyes. Tommy takes a careful step in the classroom to watch her, meeting Elijah’s puzzled glance with a sheepish shrug.

“I wrote you a note,” Amy says slowly. “It’s a thank you note. And I didn’t get to give it to you before the bell.” She holds the paper out like its a precious object.

Elijah takes it with a careful smile. “That’s so sweet of you Amy.” He scans the page quickly, while Amy watches him, intent.

Then Elijah’s face twists a little and he drops into a squat at her height. “Thank you so much Amy,” Elijah says softly, voice wavering a little. “Can I give you a hug?”

Amy nods, quick, and throws her arms around him. Elijah’s arms wrap gently around her back, holding her for a minute. Tommy’s heart clenches.

Elijah pulls back and straightens a little. “I’m really going to miss you in my class next year,” he tells Amy with a smile. “You’ll have to come visit me sometime and let me know how second grade is, yeah?”

“I will,” Amy promises solemnly. “Have a good summer Mr. Cone.” She turns and practically skips back to Tommy’s side.

“You too,” Elijah grins at her.

“Thank you,” Tommy manages through a thick throat. “For everything you’ve taught her this year.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Elijah smiles at Tommy. “See you around?”

“Yeah,” Tommy grins back. “I hope we will.”

Tommy squeezes Amy’s hand as they walk out of the building.

“Thank you for taking me back Daddy,” Amy tells him seriously, as they reach the doors.

“Of course sweetie,” Tommy smiles at her. “It’s always important to thank people who mean a lot to us.”

Amy nods and then pulls away, racing for the swings and the dogs, hair shining in the sun.

 

 

_** July: ** _

Tommy turns around from the cash register, hands full of complicated coffee orders for the whole office and his heart stops.

“Hey,” Elijah laughs, reaching to steady a cup that’s about to fall as he unfolds from his table in the corner. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Coffee,” Tommy says lamely.

“It’s the best here,” Elijah agrees. “This is my favorite place to get work done during the summer, I’m here like every day.”

“I got sent with the office coffee order,” Tommy manages, a little more coherent. “Lovett-” _set me up._

Elijah chuckles a little “I’ve seen him here a few times. The baristas hate him for emptying the milk canisters.”

“We order him lattes and lie,” Tommy rolls his eyes. “He’s a menace.”

Elijah laughs. “Well, let me get the door for you.” He reaches for the door and walks Tommy out onto the sidewalk in the sun. “It was ah… nice to see you Tommy. Tell Amy I said hello?”

“Of course,” Tommy grins and walks towards the corner.

His arm tingles where Elijah’s brushed against it. His heart’s still flipping at an arrythmic beat. Lovett fucking set him up. Lovett set him up to make the move he’s been urging all summer with: _he’s not her teacher anymore_.

Tommy turns around. “Elijah?”

Elijah is still standing in the doorway. Watching _him_ , Tommy thrills.

“Yeah?” Elijah grins, taking a couple steps forward.

 _Jump_.

“Could I buy your coffee sometime?” Tommy stammers. “Or, like, dinner? I mean-”

“Like a date?” Elijah’s eyes sparkle.

“Yes,” Tommy grins, looking straight into them and counting all the flecks of gold. “Exactly like a date. It’s been a year since I kissed you and I think I’d like to do it again.”

“Tommy,” Elijah takes a step towards him, face splitting with a radiant smile. “I’d like nothing more.”

 


End file.
